Where was I last week? Oh, right, in the Finger Lakes, trying to survive the heat and humidity while waiting for fall colors to pop. I’m till waiting… and still “enjoying” the humidity. It is pretty though, mostly wineries and farms, like this one, where you can see the sheep following each other out of the barn like, well, sheep.
One of the most moving moments of my life came last Thursday, standing on the hallowed ground where the first Women’s Rights convention was held, in Seneca Falls, New York.
My mother — married at 19, a mother at 20, and a housewife in the 1950s — became an early member of N.O.W. and a charter subscriber to Ms. magazine in the 1960s, that turbulent decade that saw wars, protests and social upheaval in so many areas. When my dad said my brother would go to college, my mother would answer just as firmly that the three girls would go too. And I did, earning a B.A. and then later a Masters, with my parents flying to Boston to see me get that diploma.
None of that — and most of my life, as it turned out — would not have happened without the courage of the suffragists who converged in this place in 1848 to begin in earnest the discussion of equal rights for women. To see this place, stand inside it, and imagine the impassioned debates of the convention was so moving that I cried, wishing my mother had been able to see it too.
On the way home that day, I made a wrong turn in Waterloo and found myself at an unexpectedly moving memorial, with a design so different that I’m going to talk about it in a separate post as an example of how a memorial can honor both the past and stand for hope in the future.
Sunday, I crossed another item off my bucket list: the Corning Museum of Glass. I had the opportunity to stand just inches away from iconic stained glass from Tiffany and Frank Lloyd Wright. The section was mostly empty of visitors, so I had these windows all to myself for a few minutes. It was truly an experience to stand in front of such iconic artworks.
In 12 years of living in New York, I never got this far upstate, and I never saw the Erie Canal. Tuesday, I rectified that oversight and hunted down several locks near Macedon, Palmyra, and Lyons.
These locks are crazy photogenic so they’re going to have their own post down the road, too.
My dad’s side of the family comes from the Mormon tradition, so this photo montage is for them, places I saw as I wandered around Palmyra.
One more weekend in the Finger Lakes, and with the temperatures supposed to cool down, I’m still hoping for some fall color. Fingers crossed.
We create our buildings and then they create us. Likewise, we construct our circle of friends and our communities and then they construct us.
Frank Lloyd Wright